Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
But her wedding’s in a month. I don’t want my future brother-in-law scrambling to replace his best man on my account. That would make me the problem. I shudder at the thought. “Don’t kick him out,” I say, adding a smile to sell just how fine I am. “I’m completely fine with him being there.”
“Good,” she says with a decisive nod. “I’m glad for you. But also, I want everything to go smoothly since my brand manager just finalized the deal with Fresh Face. Not only do they want to sponsor the show, they want to sponsor all my pre-wedding events as long as I use their makeup and so does the bridal party.”
I beam, like the sun. “That’s terrific. I love their makeup and have been using it forever,” I say, genuinely happy for her.
“And you have the dewy complexion to show for it,” she says, and fine—she’s not wrong. My skincare routine is top-notch. “Anyway, they’re sponsoring all of the content I’m doing about the wedding for the show and of course for my socials. And they want you to do a few behind-the-scenes videos as the maid of honor, like the look you’ll wear when we finalize the dress, or the perfect makeup for a bridesmaids’ brunch, or the shower—that sort of thing. It might take the attention off your situation.”
“I’m in,” I say. “But it’s because I want to help you.”
“Great. That’s why I’ve decided we need a preemptive strike.”
I furrow my brow. “What’s that?”
“You’ll need a date for my wedding.”
I recoil. I can’t imagine anything I want less than a date. “Um, no.”
“I get it. Dating sucks. But Jameson’s single now, and my spies are telling me he’s set up his dating profile. My friends have spotted him on the apps. His headline is…wait for it…Hoptimistic About Finding My Match.”
We mime gagging at the same time.
“That’s awful,” I say.
“Isn’t it? And he goes on to say Let’s brew something special together.”
“He can brew a batch of bullshit.”
She stares at me with battle-ready eyes. “Do you see my point now? There’s a very good chance he might bring someone else to the wedding. If your ex is at the wedding with a plus-one, you’ll have to be there with someone too, otherwise it’ll look like you aren’t moving on.”
“It’s been two weeks. Am I supposed to have moved on? I was thinking I’d take maybe a couple of years to regroup. Figure out what went wrong. Learn from it.”
“You don’t need to sit on the sidelines and lick your wounds.” Caroline paces around the island; she only needs a headset mic, and she could be presenting a TED Talk. “You need to get back out there and move the hell on like the fabulous babe you are.” She pauses, levels me with a sharp stare. “And, let’s be real, you don’t want to be known as the romance planner who got dumped on the Jumbotron.”
Or worse—the romance planner who screwed up her own Jumbotron proposal. “Valid point,” I admit. Since it’s not like the clients are lining up right now to hire someone who sucks at relationships.
I’m also not entirely in the mood to create jigsaw puzzle proposals or romantic movie scene reenactments for proposals, engagement parties, or big anniversary dates.
Imagine that.
But I’ll need to get my mojo back soon. I’ll need to move forward in my business, not to linger on what happened on the big screen. “You want me to change the narrative.”
“Exactly. And what better way to show Jameson and everyone else that you’re not hurt than by having a hot guy on your arm? You need a top-notch plus-one. And I already have an idea for your wedding date.”
I give her my I’m waiting face.
My sister gives me her I’m eight years older and know better face. So, basically, her face.
“Okay. Who?” I ask, breaking the silence.
She sweeps a hand toward the new succulent. “The guy who gave you the plant to check in on how you were doing.”
I blink. “You can’t be serious?”
There’s no hint of laughter in her eyes. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“There’s nothing in it for Lake. He’s a superstar athlete.”
A devilish grin shifts her lips. “A superstar athlete who helped you out of a jam.”
“That doesn’t mean he wants to be my wedding date.”
“Please,” she says, wearing confidence like it’s her perfume. “You really think he did that whole thing because he’s not into you?”
“I think he did it because he felt sorry for me. I work with him, and he’s also Clem’s brother.”
She smiles again, without showing any teeth. “Then leverage the sympathy.”
“Is that what you would tell your viewers?”
“No,” she says, calm as a rattlesnake before a strike. “But this is what you need to do to live your best life. I love you madly and want you to move on. Also, I need this wedding to go off without a hitch. I have more than a hundred people working on my show, and I don’t want anything to go wrong. I don’t want Jameson to draw too much attention by showing up with a date. And I don’t want Fresh Face worried about how it all might go down. It’s a win–win. Especially since you get to look terrific, rebuild your business, and have a hot athlete on your arm as you do it.”